


To Be Young And In Love

by thegrimshapeofyoursmile



Series: YoI Dragon AU [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Dragon!Yuri, Fantasy AU, M/M, httyd!AU of some sorts if you squint, mechanic!Mila, mentions of viktuuri, otayuri - Freeform, slayer Otabek, slight elements of steampunk, witch!Georgi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-23 00:34:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10708431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegrimshapeofyoursmile/pseuds/thegrimshapeofyoursmile
Summary: It is the sound of heavy weight crashing into solid ground that wakes him in the middle of the night. Otabek lies still in the dark of the cave he is sleeping in and listens intently, his hand reaching for his sword. The ground is trembling with what has impacted with it and something is moving in the dark, something dark and giant and furious. Otabek listens some more, before he makes a decision and slowly, carefully slides out of the furs, fastens his leather armor around him and moves to the entrance of the cave.It is a dragon./////Otayuri AU where Otabek finds a wounded young Dragonian and decides to help him find his way back home.





	To Be Young And In Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [siberianchan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/siberianchan/gifts).



> So this fanfic was written for the lovely Siberianchan, who is entirely to blame for this mess. I may write a bit more for this AU since I have a few other ideas for this universe, but we'll see.  
> Hope you enjoy it!
> 
>  
> 
> P.S.: ...yes, Mila may be vaguely resembling Winry Rockbell from Fullmetal Alchemist. This is totally intentional.

It is the sound of heavy weight crashing into solid ground that wakes him in the middle of the night. Otabek lies still in the dark of the cave he is sleeping in and listens intently, his hand reaching for his sword. The ground is trembling with what has impacted with it and something is moving in the dark, something dark and giant and furious. Otabek listens some more, before he makes a decision and slowly, carefully slides out of the furs, fastens his leather armor around him and moves to the entrance of the cave.

It is a dragon.

A rather small one, Otabek notices, but he has never seen one like it; slender and mobile in its figure, it only partially resembles the monsters Otabek has been paid to kill before. It is a young one probably, so Otabek looks out for a mother animal as he slowly moves forwards. The dragon does not move much and lies at an odd angle; perhaps it is wounded and dying. Still, Otabek decides to stay in the shadows as much as he can, even though the dragon quite surely can see better in the dark than he can. His sword is a comforting weight in his hand. He knows how to kill a dragon, knows where their weak points are and the best one is the throat – he just has to get close enough. 

He shies back when the dragon coughs up a flame. It is a weak one, barely enough to illuminate the surroundings, yet it catches on some dry wood and Otabek can see now that the dragon really is wounded, dark black blood oozing from its side and a mangled tail wing onto the ground. The flames illuminate rich gold and green hues on its scales and Otabek draws a deep breath; the dragon is beautiful and hurting, and something tells him that he does not want to kill it. He never kills magical creatures without a specific reason anyways and nobody will pay him to kill this one, so he lowers his sword only a fraction. “Hey.“

The dragon turns its head, big green eyes like that of a cat shining bright in the dark as it inclines its head a little. So it maybe is a Dragonian; Otabek has never seen a humanly intelligent one before and does not dare to hope. For a moment they simply stare at each other, then the dragon opens its wings and roars, smoke steaming from its nostrils in thick waves. It is nothing more than a weak attempt at intimidating him and Otabek knows it, can understand it, too, and forces himself to keep the sword lowered. Instead, he chooses to speak as calmly as possible. “If you won’t kill me, I won’t kill you. Deal?“

For a moment nothing happens, then the dragon nods and folds its wings back onto its back, drawing them tightly against its body. It tries to shuffle away from him and further into the forest’s shadows, growling and grunting all the time, and Otabek lets it go without any resistance. The dragon’s figure vanishes slowly, but then it is gone and nothing more but smoke and blood remain, and even the fire dies out. Otabek stares into the darkness for a while, listening to the soft rustling of the night, then he goes back to sleep.

&&&&

He is unable to forget the dragon and goes to look for it the following morning after a quick breakfast of some bread and cheese along with a few sips of water. Most of the water he takes with him, as well as several herbs and bandages. Looking into the two traps he has laid out the night before, he finds that one holds a rabbit which he kills as quickly and painlessly as possible and takes with him as well. It is madness, the thing he plans to do, but Otabek does not like animals in pain, much less dragons (or Dragonians) – if it is not already dead and cannot be healed, he will kill it as quickly and painlessly as the rabbit. A magnificent creature deserves at least a somewhat graceful death if it comes to the worst, but first he wants to try his luck, so he sets out to look for the dragon. He follows the trail of blood, the broken twigs and trampled ground until he emerges from the trees and steps onto a small clearing.

There it is, curled into a tight ball and slightly trembling, heaving with deep breaths, and in the sunlight its beauty is so stunning that Otabek stops to look at it with awe, feeling something giant and pure and magnifying unfold in his chest. There are things greater than life, he thinks, and this is one of them, and the dragon has made it through the night, so Otabek will not let it die, not now and not later. 

“Hello,“ he says as gently as he can muster, keeping his steps light and slow as the dragon watches him with one unblinking green eye, weakly trying to lift its head and blow some smoke. It is heartbreaking and wrong to watch it suffer so much, yet its weakened state is probably the only reason why it does not rip off Otabek’s head as he crouches down beside its wounded side. “I can probably fix this,“ he tells the dragon after some careful inspection, “But it will be unpleasant and sting. Please don’t startle me too much, alright?“

There is no reply, but the dragon blinks once and does not move, so Otabek takes it as a good sign and cleans the wound as carefully as he can manage. Most of the blood has dried by now and thankfully no new blood seems to follow, so he starts to sew it shut. The dragon trembles and hisses in pain, wings folding and unfurling in a repeated motion, but it holds still except from its wings and the moment where it starts to hide its head beneath its front legs when Otabek cleans the tail wound. Half of the wing tail is too mangled to be saved, so he decides to cut off the torn parts and wrap it in bandages. The dragon seems to be exhausted by the end of it and so is Otabek, falling back onto his behind and wiping his forehead before he takes a deep sip of water. Only now he notices how fast his heart is beating, how much the blood is rushing in his ears, the adrenaline working his body into a sweat. Every single one of his instincts screams immediate danger, yet he somehow managed to work past them without even thinking too much about it, too focused on saving the dragon to care for much else.

“Here,“ he says, throwing the dead rabbit in front of the dragon’s jaws, “You need the energy. Eat up.“

The dragon does not gobble down the rabbit right away. Instead it sends Otabek a long, almost puzzled gaze, its facial expression so very colorful that it has to be a humanly intelligent dragon – and Otabek tries to not be too excited about the possibility, but humanly intelligent dragons are a myth among myths, something people murmur about in the shadows of the night. Dangerous and feared they are, combining a dragon’s strength with a human’s brain and the power to take on both forms, dragon and human-like, the oldest of them able to change into a human form so flawlessly that it cannot be differentiated from a real human in any way. They rarely mingle with people and are said to be incredibly difficult, easily obsessed once they have set their minds of something, greedy and feral and far away from morality. This dragon now looks at him with something akin to uncertainty before it settles for a growl, its wings slightly flapping as it pushes the rabbit back towards Otabek and licks once over the blood-matted rabbit fur before spitting out dramatically, small swirls of smoke steaming from its nostrils in indignation.  
“Don’t tell me you want me to skin that rabbit for you,“ Otabek says and when the dragon tchirps eagerly, he rubs his face. “You’re a dragon. What does it matter to you?“

The dragon growls again and before Otabek can react, he is tumbling across the grass, sweeped away by a powerful strike of the dragon’s tail. For a moment his vision is blurred and he takes some seconds to sit up, watching the dragon sniffle in pain and turning its head towards its tail. There it is, he thinks and unconsciously holds his breath as the dragon freezes up when it discovers what is missing. “I am sorry – I couldn’t save that part. It was completely torn.“

The fireball comes unexpected and he barely escapes behind one of the trees, immediately reaching for his sword. The dragon is up and moving, roaring and groaning in fierce outrage and Otabek can only imagine the pain that much movement has to cause him. Yet the dragon does not seem to care; instead it unfolds its wings and flaps them hard enough to generate gusts of wind that have Otabek dig his nails deeply into the tree’s bark and hold on with all his strength. He grits his teeth and decides to wait until the dragon has exhausted itself, which means that he holds onto that tree long enough for his fingers to lose all feeling. Finally, however, it has gotten tired enough to attempt blowing away half of the clearing, so Otabek carefully emerges from the tree. The dragon gazes at him with utter maliciousness and lunges for him. 

Otabek feels his claws graze over a part of his head and instinctively falls down onto the floor, rolling away from immediate danger. His right leg screams in protest at the movement, yet he still forces himself to jump up on his feet. There is no point trying to argue with the dragon right now, not when it is mad with grief and fury, so he backs down into the forest and away from the clearing as quickly as possible, stumbling a little in the process. He will try again later, maybe tomorrow, with a skinned rabbit and patience. 

&&&&

Later is in the early hours of morning where the sun has already risen and everything is bathed in soft golden and rosy hues. The dragon is curled into itself again and growls when he comes closer, so Otabek stops at the edge of the clearing and waits a little. All that seems to come for him is smoke and glinting green eyes, so he strikes out and throws two skinned rabbits neatly before its front paws. The dragon sniffs them warily, then lifts its head again and makes a quiet noise deep in its throat. It would be blasphemy and idiocy to not be afraid of something that is so powerful, but this dragon seems more like a lost child, sniffling with fear and sadness, no matter how wide the span of its wings. Still, it eats and crunches bones and meat between its teeth, after which it looks a little more at ease, so Otabek carefully comes closer.

“I know you’re mad at me and I can understand why, but can I show you something?“ he asks and the dragon’s eyes narrow into sceptical slits, but it does not try to bite Otabek, so he sits down in the grass and rolls up his right trouser leg. Metal and metal and leather appears, up to his knee where it is strapped in place. Otabek taps against the construction that helps him walk and says, “It may seem like your life is over, but you can live with it. There are ways.“

The dragon is unmoving at first, then it slowly uncurls. Otabek tries to sit still and keep his breath steady when its big head comes closer, sniffing at the shiny prosthetic. The tip of a rosy tongue darts out and meets the leather, causing the dragon to sniff in indignation again. There is something somber about its expression, however, so Otabek dares to reach out a hand – slowly, gently, carefully.

The dragon immediately hobbles away, spitting smoke and several sparks in the process. Otabek is starting to find its behavior rather dramatic, but he decides to not comment on it and instead rolls down his trouser leg again, stretching a little in the process. “I mean it. It does not have to mean that you won’t be able to fly again. We can figure something out if you promise not to eat me and let me treat those wounds. What is your name?“

The dragon grunts and makes clucking noises, but Otabek patiently waits it out and inclines his head a little. “My name is Otabek. Do you have a human name? Perhaps you can write it.“

Again there are clucking, grunting noises and the dragon shuffles this way and that, spreading its wings indignantly and spreading small clouds of smoke over the clearing again. Otabek is starting to get used again and chooses to remain seated. “It’s alright if you cannot tell me. Could you hold still for me now? I’d like to have a look at your wounds.“

He finds that nothing seems to be infected, which is good, and applies some more of the nicely smelling herbal salve, changing the bandages in the process as well. The dragon’s scales are surprisingly smooth and warm where his fingers touch them; he is careful not to linger on them too long given the dragon’s temper, yet finds himself wistfully looking at their magnificent golden shimmer. If it really has a humanoid form, what must it look like? Where do the scales go? There are so many things he would like to ask, but Otabek holds his tongue and stands up. He cannot help a surprised yelp when he is pushed flat onto his ass by a giant nose. Warm, stinky breath is roared into his face and for a moment he struggles with blind panic as he reaches for the sword he has lowered into the grass before. 

The paw that is placed on his chest is firm, but gentle. _I could crush you_ , it says, but the blow never comes. Instead there is only more steam from wide nostrils and green eyes blinking lazily at him, then, suddenly, he is free to move again and sits up with harsh breath and embarrassingly trembling hands. He focuses on forcing down the fear, taking deep, even breaths before instincts overthrow intelligence and manners. The dragon watches him, lips stretched into something resembling a smile as it curls back into itself and turns its back towards him, point apparently made.

&&&&

They fall into some sort of routine after that. Otabek, who has wanted to travel to the next city and spend the approaching winter there, stays longer and longer in the cave as the summer days slowly, gently bleed into autumn. It still is warm enough and the dragon’s wounds heal nicely, but it still cannot fly and does not seem to know how to hunt without it. Or maybe it is just taking advantage of Otabek bringing it fresh meat or fish every day. Otabek talks more to it than with any human, perhaps because he does not get any verbal reply, perhaps because he has gotten strangely lonely after months in the wilderness and the dragon is a creature that responds to him in a string of non-verbal gestures. Otabek slowly begins to learn their meaning and differentiate between them. By now, a month after he has found the dragon, he can tell pretty well in which mood the dragon is.  
“You know,“ he remarks one day, “It would be way easier if you were human. I could take you to my cave and help you there. Not to mention that you would need a lot less food. But I guess nobody of us can change what we are.“

The dragon does not reply to that apart from slow, lazing blinking and an even lazier attempt at pushing Otabek to the ground. It remains strangely subdued for the rest of the day and Otabek cannot help but worry on the way back to the cave; the dragon has quite grown on him. 

When he arrives on the clearing the next day, the dragon is gone.

The pain he feels in his chest is strange; it has been a long while since anything has managed to hurt him and he has always known that the dragon would leave eventually, but unceremoniously like this is bothersome. He stands still at the edge of the clearing, skinned rabbit forgotten in his hand, and breathes in sharply with the pain. 

“Hey, idiot,“ a voice suddenly says behind him and he whirls around, one hand on the hilt of his sword. He finds a winged being clinging onto a tree; the first thing he sees are familiar golden-green wings and a tail, albeit it way smaller, fitting for a human back that appears when the creature jumps onto the ground. Otabek does not breathe. It is a boy, naked and beautiful, shadows of scales rippling underneath the smooth skin of his arms and legs and torso and face. Otabek does not breathe. Large green eyes in a face too beautiful to be human blink at him in annoyance. Golden hair long enough to reach slim shoulders gets brushed back before the Dragonian says, “Take me back to your cave. It’s cold here. This form is weak, how do you do it?“

Otabek finds his breath again and releases the sword. The Dragonian eyes him warily still, limber arms crossed in front of his chest. He shies back in surprise when Otabek wordlessly slips out of his coat and carefully drapes it across his form as much as possible, yet snuggles into the fabric soon enough. He is a miracle and Otabek cannot stop looking at him, his heart beating with the heaviness of something fierce and true. 

He ends up carrying the Dragonian who is surprisingly heavy for this form, yet snuggles into Otabek’s arms with only a little complaint, tail wound tightly around one of his legs and wings pressed equally tightly against his back. Occasionally a low rumble emerges from his throat, but other than that he is quiet and Otabek is too aware of how warm the boy is. In human years, he cannot be older than maybe seventeen oder eighteen, but what this means in Dragonian years Otabek does not know. 

Carrying the Dragonian into the cave he has made habitable, he carefully lowers him down onto the pile of fur he usually sleeps on and watches him shuffle around, still bandaged tail swishing back and forth until the Dragonian has made his nest, blinking up almost contently to Otabek. “It reeks of human,“ he says, “But I guess that was to be expected. I’m hungry, give me food.“

Otabek looks at him for a long moment, at the way the boy hides his human limbs and stomach almost completely underneath his sturdy wings, burrowed deeply enough in the fur that Otabek cannot see much more than tail and wings and his beautiful face. In here, the Dragonian is at a major disadvantage and they both know it, so Otabek carefully unbuckles the belt that holds his sword and props it against one of the walls, sitting down to light the fireplace in the middle of the cave again. The Dragonian watches him the entire time, shuffling around and fussing with the fur, his green eyes narrowing in satisfaction when finally flames eat their way through the wood. “You can’t even breathe fire. That’s pretty pathetic.“ 

“Can you, in this form?“ Otabek asks with honest curiosity and looks over to the Dragonian, who shakes his head after a slight pause. “Have you ever tried bread?“ 

“No,“ the Dragonian answers after a slight pause with barely suppressed annoyance at the question. Otabek has the strong inkling that he could be simply ashamed. “I’ve only been to human towns a couple of times and I only got some meat and fish there. Human food is fucking weird anyways, so it doesn’t matter.“

Apparently he has been often enough in human settlements to learn how to swear, which Otabek finds quite amusing, although he does not comment on it and settles for offering the dragon the last piece of bread he has. The Dragonian takes a cautious bite, yet seems to enjoy it since he finishes it surprisingly quickly after that, looking up at Otabek with expectant eyes. Wordlessly, Otabek pushes a flask of water into his slender hands and watches him drink, greedily enough that droplets spill from his lips and slide down his long, shimmering throat. Otabek averts his eyes and feels foolish enough to turn away and busy himself with cleaning his hunting knives. 

The Dragonian is skittish like a cat, but he is curious like one as well and so Otabek is not surprised when he leaves the pile of fur after a while, shuffling closer on all fours and flopping down next to him, close enough that their shoulders touch. 

“You need some clothes,“ Otabek says without thinking and the Dragonian ruffles his wings in indignation, brows furrowed together. “It will help you against the cold and protect that skin. I could borrow you something from me.“

“Gift it to me,“ the Dragonian demands and Otabek cannot help but be amused by it, so he just shrugs in acknowledgement and reaches for his third best shirt. The Dragonian watches with interest as he carefully cuts open the shirt’s back and looks for two buttons in the small box full of sewing supplies that his sister has given him. He sees them onto the fabric, one at the utmost top, the other one at the seam. It is not that pretty since Otabek is not a seamstress and only knows the basics, but he thinks that it looks at least somewhat decent and so he helps the dragon into it, fastening the buttons around the wings. Afterwards, he takes a look at the tail and wonders what to do with it because the Dragonian definitely needs pants or at least something similar to be covered with. In the end, he settles for carefully wrapping his loins in a few scraps of fabric and leaves it at that.

The Dragonian is not amused. “I can't move my tail!“ he complains, even though he can move his tail just fine, which is the reason why Otabek simply raises an eyebrow and shrugs. “You’re mean to me and these clothes are stupid. You are stupid too. And you stink.“

“And yet you tolerate my presence, eat my food and sleep in my bed, and I still don’t know your name,“ Otabek replies and stretches his legs a little, feeling the dull ache at the place where the prosthetic meets flesh. The dragon’s cheeks color a little and he scoffs, scooting back from Otabek and sliding between the furs again. 

“I suppose you can call me Yuri,“ he allowes magnanimously after a moment and closes his eyes. “You wouldn’t be able to pronounce my real name anyway and this is as close as it gets. And one of my parents has a name that sounds similar.“

“Where are your parents?“ Otabek asks. Usually he probably would not have asked, but Yuri’s voice is lovely and he finds that he still is very intrigued by him, so much that he wants to know everything there is to know. 

The dragon furrows his brows and snuggles deeper into the fur, eyes drooping. Otabek wonders how hard it is for him to maintain this form. Is it exhausting or does it not bother him at all? The more he finds out, the more Yuri remains a mystery. “I don’t know,“ he answers at last and closes his eyes. “But I want you to help me find out.“

There are a lot of things Otabek could say to that; he could protest and say that winter is coming and it is not very friendly to a human in these huge, looming forests. He could ask why he cannot go alone and has to drag him into magical business that does not concern him. He could point out how many dragons he has slain before – three, and the second one got his leg, which he cannot even be mad about – and that Yuri should find a way to work around his missing tail wing and fly away from him. He does not have to fear anything from Otabek – no intelligent magical creature without malicious tendencies has – and yet Otabek fears for him. Or he is just a coward. 

He could say all of these things. Instead he says none of them and only replies, “Alright.“

&&&&

The first step is helping Yuri to fly again, so Otabek takes him to the witch.

It is probably not that good of an idea, since all witches are overly complicated and this one is dramatic on top of it, but it is the first thing that comes to his mind next to contacting Mila, which would have required to return to town. This is not an option Otabek favors; Yuri is too foreign, too beautiful to be subtle among humans for long and he is not sure whether people would welcome him kindly, so he decides that it is the last resort. Asking the witch for help does not sit well with him either, but sometimes one has to choose between the lesser evil. Over time, Otabek has gotten quite good at that.

As usual, Georgi greets him with a mournful face that grows increasingly sadder as he lays eyes upon Yuri, who is wrapped in Otabek’s furs and nothing else. He looks every bit as feral as he is and his wings flap ever so slightly as he watches the witche’s smudged face with interest, half-hidden behind Otabek’s back. He probably can feel the magic emanating from the witch.

“Georgi,“ Otabek greets him, “How are things with Anya?“

Georgi looks close to crying at that and wipes his nose with the cuff of his long, black sleeve. “Never trust a Black witch,“ he spits furiously, so Otabek guesses that Anya is history. With a sigh Georgi shakes his head. “Of all the creatures you could bring to me, I never would have guessed a Dragonian, what with you having-“  
“He needs help,“ Otabek interrupts him before Georgi can say much else. It is a strange thing he is feeling – shame, perhaps, embarrassment, concern. This is not for Georgi to spill; if at all he himself is going to tell Yuri. “He is injured and cannot fly. The tail is missing a wing.“

For a moment, Georgi says nothing before he sighs again and ushers them inside. “Come on,“ he says, “Things like that are best said over tea.“

Georgi’s small hut is filled to the brim with drying herbs and all kinds of glittering, jingeling things that immediately catch Yuri’s attention. He shuffles around the hut without any care for human politeness and snatches whatever he can get from various shelves, tables and seats to stuff it into the furs. It takes Otabek a while to gently pry everything from his fingers and put it back again. Yuri hisses at him the entire time and hits him with his tail every now and then, but not as hard as he could, and he makes clear that Otabek is his personal chair by settling in his lap as soon as Otabek sat down on one of Georgi’s crickling wooden stools. Georgi watches them with some kind of befuddlement before he sighs again and reaches for Yuri’s tail. Yuri kicks at him, yet tucks his head underneath Otabek’s chin as soon as something flashes in Georgi’s eyes and around his hands, something that speaks of power. Otabek gently pats his back and tries to ignore his suddenly fast-beating heart.

“Well,“ Georgi murmurs after he has finally gotten hold of the tail and was able to investigate it, “I can certainly grow it back, but you know that everything has its cost. There needs to be an equivalent exchange to please the goddess of nature. Balance brings harmony, and harmony brings peace. So for this – it has to be flesh willingly given, blood willingly shed, muscle willingly torn.“

Yuri looks back and forth between them with narrowed, suspicious eyes and Otabek gently pats his back. Of course he has known this; it is one of the oldest and most important rules of witches, no matter if Black or White. With a White witch, he just can be sure that what he demands is really just was has to be paid, not more. So he says very calmly, “Would a foot be enough?“

“What!“ Yuri screeches at that and scrambles from his lap,“I don’t want to give my foot for that! Are you mad? I need my foot as well!“

“I wasn’t talking about your foot,“ Otabek says gently, “I was talking about mine.“

Yuri looks at him with wide green eyes and seems to be speechless for the first time for as long as Otabek has known him. His voice is strangely small when he asks, “Why would you do that? You’re a human. Humans are barbaric.“

Otabek just shrugs and looks at the one foot he has left. It would not matter much, he thinks, to wear a prothesis here as well; the thought of slowly turning more and more into a tin man is an interesting one. He is not sure he likes it – but he likes Yuri, very much so, more than he should. There is nothing rational about it, really, so he does not even attempt to justify it before himself. Giving this to Yuri just feels right, because really, what does his body mean to him? It is just a vessel meant to carry him onwards, nothing more, but Yuri – Yuri needs to fly. A Dragonian belongs to the sky.

There is a long pause. Silence settles over the hut and Georgi watches them with dark, interested eyes while he staples his fingertips. Then, finally, Yuri says with conviction ins his voice, “No.“

“But-“ Otabek begins, yet is silenced by a tail swung against his legs in a quick, sharp motion.

“I said no!“ Yuri yells and storms outside. Georgi and Otabek stare after him for a moment, then Georgi says, “Careful with that one, dragonslayer. I have a feeling that he has already claimed you – and getting out of a Dragonian’s claiming claws is worse than getting out of a fairy’s bargain.“

Otabek just nods. There is no point in telling the witch that maybe he does not want to get out of that claim. 

“So,“ Georgi says, “What about asking Mila for help?“

&&&&

At night, Yuri comes to him. He brings the furs Otabek left to him and covers them both before he nestles his head underneath Otabek’s chin. Otabek, still half-asleep and tired, just lets him and wraps an arm around him as much as Yuri’s wings allow. He feels one of them unfold above them like a blanket.

“Why would you suggest that,“ Yuri murmurs quietly, his breath hot and dry against Otabek’s neck. “Stupid human. You need your foot, you only have one left.“

Otabek just shrugs and gently slides his fingertips along the edge of Yuri’s wing. It trembles underneath his touch and he wonders why. Is it sensitive? Is it because of Yuri’s mood? Is Yuri angry at him? He does not think that is the case. 

“The one that hatched me and his mate,“ Yuri begins after a while, “They’re not my actual parents. They told me they got me from an old Dragonian when I was still an egg, and then they took turns hatching me – but Yuuri, that’s his mate, said that Viktor, that’s the one who hatched me, insisted in doing most of the work. I think it wasn’t about me, really, he just wanted to be pampered by his mate. But anyway… I think they’re looking for me, and…they might be disgusting and weird, but I don’t want them to worry.“

“Disgusting and weird?“ Otabek repeats and does not stop petting Yuri. He tries to be careful, keeping his touches light, and Yuri does not seem to mind terribly.

“They’re so in love,“ Yuri snorts against Otabek’s neck, “It’s really disgusting, you won’t believe it. They’re been together for two decades now and they’re still so – I’m not sure how human time works, even though we use your time measurements, but two decades is pretty long for Dragonian relationships. Most of us are too – we have too much of an ego to stay together for long, especially Viktor. Sacred Tiamat, I still don’t know how Yuuri can live with him, he is bad even for our standards. And all that smooching and tail-linking and wing-dancing and hand-holding is so fucking disgusting that it makes me want to barf, honestly.“

Otabek smiles because it is so clear to see that Yuri loves these people that raised him, so he listens to him swear some more and blinks a little in surprise when Yuri suddenly asks, “Have you ever been in love?“

“I guess so,“ Otabek answers after a while of careful thinking, “But…it never lasted long, so but maybe those were only crushes. It’s hard to say. Have you?“

All of a sudden Yuri is skittish like a cat again and bristles with his entire body, yet he does not move away from Otabek’s loose embrace. “Me? Of course not! All that crap doesn’t interest me at all! Stop being weird.“

 _He is so cute_ , Otabek thinks and smiles at himself. There is warmth in his chest that has nothing to do with the furs or Yuri’s wing. He falls asleep again like that, and it is the best handful of sleep he has gotten in a while. Yuri stays curled against him the entire time.

&&&&

Mila greets them cheerfully with a wave of her hammer. She wears a pink headband that clashes violently with the fiery red of her hair and bites into the happy yellow of her pants. Her blouse is more black and grey than white since it is completely smudged with soot and dirt from unknown origins. She has come outside from her little hut at the edge of town where she is manufacturing all the artificial limbs for people like Otabek, unseen from society that looks down upon a hard-working woman, yet needs her special skills so direly. There is sweat on her brow from the giant fire in her workshop, but she is laughing joyfully. 

“Otabek!“ she yells, “Come on in! Did something break again? You really need to be more careful than that, hmm?“ Then she discovers Yuri hiding behind him with a scowl and her eyes widen significantly before she gasps. “Did you bring a fairy with you this time? I thought you said dealing with the fae is too dangerous for you! Oh my, look how pretty he is!“

Since Mila has no sense of self-preservation and can be utterly ignorant to the dangers of the Otherworld, she rushes forward and lifts Yuri above her head, which results in the most pathetic screech Otabek has ever heard as Yuri struggles against her impossibly strong grip. 

“You’re lucky that he is not a fae,“ Otabek remarks as Yuri attempts to bite off her head, which Mila coos at in delight. “He is a Dragonian.“

Mila gasps at that and briefly turns towards him before she decides to show mercy and puts Yuri back onto the ground where he flaps his wings in utter indignation with an expression that seems as if he is considering murder. “A Dragonian! I have never seen one before.“ Yuri yelps as she lifts one of his wings and inspects them without any respect. “And oh, the tail, I didn’t recognize that one before! Oh…there is a wing missing here. Can you fly with that, little one?“ 

“No,“ Otabek says because Yuri is too busy trying to strangle Mila, “That’s the reason we’re here. Georgi had the idea that you could probably help him with a prothesis or something.“

Mila thoughtfully taps her chin, then her nose and sighs. “I’m not sure, I’ve never had to design a fully functioning wing before. Tails for dogs, arms and legs, sure, the occasional eye too…but wings are not quite common, you see? We can try. I mean, if that little one is up for it, that is!“

“Stop calling me little, you hag!“ Yuri yells, but Otabek thinks that maybe he likes her more than he cares to admit since he does not change into his dragon form to engulf her in flames. He is petty enough that Otabek would not have put it beneath him. “If you can help me, then help me!“

“What about my payment?“ Mila singsongs and cocks her head a little. “Even if you’re cute and a Dragonian, I need to make a living, you know?“ 

Yuri gnashes his teeth together and growls. Before Otabek can offer Mila a part of his earnings he saved over summer, Yuri says, “I can pay you. I could get you a diamond.“

Mila squints her eyes. “How big?“

The nerve she has, Otabek thinks fondly, asking a Dragonian how big his offered diamond is. Interestingly enough, Yuri answers her with words instead of violence and simply forces through his teeth, “About half of my hand.“ When Mila whistles at that, he hurries to add, “But I can only give it to you after I can fly again. I need to get it from my hoard.“ 

Mila considers this for a moment and nods. “Alright, but I want a magical contract. Just to make sure, sweetie, you understand that, right?“

“I guess,“ Yuri says sullenly and Mila smiles before she skips off into the workshop. “Beka, let me look at yours too when you’re already here!“ she yells over her shoulder and Otabek shrugs, even though she cannot see it, manages to catch Yuri’s eye and nods at him. Yuri snorts, but follows him inside and watches as Otabek sits down on a wooden chair and rolls up the pants leg that covers the prothesis.

It is the first time he has taken it off before Yuri’s eyes; why that is, he cannot say for sure. Perhaps it is embarrassment, perhaps it is thoughtfulness, perhaps it is a little bit of both. As it is, he is glad to release his stump for a while because the metal and leather has started to chafe a little from constant use even through the night. The leather strips that keep the prothesis attached to his stump probably need some change too. Apparently Mila thinks the same because she takes the artificial leg from him and investigates it for a moment before she puts it down on the worktable and starts tinkering with it. 

While she is working, humming a song under her breath that Otabek does not recognize, Yuri comes closer and crouches down beside him, his wings tightly folded against his back. Otabek tries to ignore the slight discomfort he feels when Yuri looks with barely concealed interest at the stump that is his leg. Instead he stretches slightly and pauses when Yuri tries to touch the stump and only shies back in the last moment. “You’re curious?“

“Maybe,“ Yuri replies and looks up at him.

“Well, go on then,“ Otabek says. 

Yuri’s fingers are burning when he touches him, but the gesture itself is gentle. He breathes out slowly, quietly, green eyes full of wonder at the scars that are smattered all over Otabek’s stump. He remembers the mangled mesh of shattered bones and bleeding flesh, the pain of it, the heat of fire as he burned out the wound to close it and prevent it from killing him. And the pain, the pain was everywhere, in every fiber of his body. He remembers unconsciousness claiming him not soon afterwards, remembers waking up feverish, shuddering, alone. What a dangerous business he has decided to pursue, all in honor of his family’s tradition. Honor, his father always used to say while he was still alive, honor is everything. And Otabek still thinks that this is true, but only to a certain point. 

“How did it happen?“ Yuri asks and looks up curiously.

Otabek thinks that he could lie now; it would be easy enough. Instead he replies, “I fought a dragon and wasn’t fast enough.“

“Stupid, fighting a dragon,“ Yuri snorts and decides to settle his back against Otabek’s uninjured leg, hugging himself with his wings and wrapping his tail around himself. “Humans are tiny against dragons. Why did you do that?“

“I was paid for it,“ Otabek says and pretends that his blood does not rush in his ears, that his heartbeat is slow and steady and not racing in his ears. And yet, he still lifts his eyes and meets Yuri’s gaze right on; there is no point of return now, no point of lying or pretending that things are better than they are. “They call me a slayer around here.“

Yuri is quiet for such a long time that Otabek fears the worst. He sits completely unmoving, wings scarily flat against his back. The golden net of scales on his skin is so beautiful, Otabek thinks absently, it is as if Yuri was kissed by a god. He tries to drink in the sight for as long as he still can. Even Mila is strangely quiet in the background, likely listening with one ear while she tinkers with Otabek’s leg.

Finally, Yuri opens his mouth. “Then apparently you didn’t get the job description because I’m still alive, so well done. You suck. What about my tail now?“

Otabek releases a breath he did not know he held. There is something in Yuri’s gaze that tells him, We will talk about this later, but for now the matter seems to be settled. He nods and Yuri lowers his gaze, turning away from him, yet staying at his feet. When Otabek gently touches his shoulder, he does not move. 

After having finished mending Otabek’s leg, Mila turns around towards them with a smile and reattaches the leg. The matter takes only a few seconds until the leg is secured in its socket again, then Mila straightens and clap her hands. 

“Alright, boys,“ she says, “I think I can help you out. Because I’m awesome. Leave it all to me – in about two days your little dragon will be able to fly again.“

At that prospect, Yuri does not even yell at her for calling him little.

&&&&

At night Yuri huddles closer against Otabek once more. They are staying in the small, cramped second bedroom Mila usually only offers family and Yuri’s voice is hushed as he says, “Do you like it? Killing people?“

Otabek considers this for a while before he shakes his head. “I don’t kill people,“ he corrects, “I kill creatures that behave incontrollably. If I can handle the situation without killing anything or anyone, I do so. I even prefer it that way. But sometimes animal just go wild, be it from sickness of something else, and then I have no other choice. So I do what has to be done. Aren’t dragons to Dragonians what apes are to humans?“

Yuri is visibly hurt by those words. “And don’t you mourn an ape when it is slaughtered? Dragons are intelligent creatures that usually mind their own business. I don’t like people going around and killing them like dogs.“

“Me neither,“ Otabek agrees. For a while it is silent save from the fizzling sound of crackling logs in Mila’s fireplace. The flames coat the room’s walls in flickering shadows; from next door, Mila’s unconcerned snoring is audible. Otabek forgets about it all when Yuri fits his head underneath his chin and breathes against his chest.

“I don’t know why I like you so much,“ he murmurs, “But you’re my human now, so cuddle me like you mean it.“

“I always mean it,“ Otabek says honestly and burrows his nose in Yuri’s soft, golden hair. And then, because he is stupid and because he apparently has lost his brain-to-mouth-filter in the coziness of his room, he says, “You’re so beautiful.“ 

Yuri stammers and half-heartedly slaps his shoulder. “Stop it,“ he murmurs, but his voice sounds happy, so Otabek brushes a lock of his hair behind his ear and looks at him. Yuri averts his gaze, but his cheeks are rosy and he is smiling ever so slighty, even though he tries to scowl. Otabek bites the insides of his cheeks and leans forward until their foreheads touch. It feels strangely intimate and he tries to ignore the tingling inside his guts, but it is to no avail. Perhaps Yuri feels the same because his eyes flutter shut and he breathes out uneasily. 

“I’m going to miss you,“ he whispers so quietly that Otabek almost misses it. “But humans are just a heartbreak for us. The one that hatched me always warned me about it….and he is a stupid, irresponsible idiot, but sometimes he’s right, you know. But I can’t help it…I can’t help the way I feel.“

“Me neither,“ Otabek whispers and brushes the back of his hand against Yuri’s cheek. “Might as well make the best of it.“

When they kiss, it is in the quiet of night, amidst soft fire glow. Yuri kisses carefully and a little unsure, and Otabek kisses with all the intensity of a man who has kissed before and who knows that he has not much time left. In two days, maybe even less, Yuri will spread his wings and fly away and he will never see him again. So this kiss, this kiss between evening and dawn, this is probably all that they will ever get, and his throat is tight with humble gratefulness that this is granted to him. He is allowed to hold Yuri close, breathe in his smell, kiss his lips, trace the gold on his skin with his mouth and cheeks and closed eyes. 

_Don’t go_ , he wants to say, _don’t leave me_ , but he could never be so selfish. So he will let him go, will make sure that he is okay and finds his way home, and then he will miss him every day and night until breathing gets hard and he is old while Yuri is still so painfully young. There is no way they can ever be together, yet Otabek dreams of it as he kisses Yuri and embraces him with all the emotions he is feeling.

If only the night would never end.

&&&&

The wing that Mila crafts is a masterwork that somehow, as she explains, changes size depending on whether Yuri is in his human or dragon form, and it fits perfectly. She has painted it golden so that it fits to the rest of Yuri and the Dragonian turns and twists to look at it constantly. Otabek thinks that Yuri likes it, even though he stubbornly says nothing about it. When Yuri looks up, their eyes meet for a moment. Otabek will forever remember the sweet pain of that one gaze, the knowledge that this is it, that their shared journey has ended here.

“I’ll go change,“ Yuri says after a slight pause and Otabek nods, looking after him as he disappears behind Mila’s house. Mila looks at Otabek with her sharp, knowing gaze; he tries to avoid her eyes and stares at his feet instead. And really, what can he offer Yuri? There is nothing he can give him. He is just a man with limbs and a bloody past and present, neither rich nor very interesting, though he is aware that he has his qualities. Yuri will live on and soon forget about him; when one has centuries of life ahead, so many little details get lost in time. He will be fine and happy, and that thought eases the pain in Otabek’s heart a little. He tries to be brave and smiles when Yuri‘s snout appears behind the edge of the house until the magnificent rest of his dragon form follows.

Mila clearly is in awe. She inspects Yuri from all angles and is not afraid to tickle his belly until he coughs up a few clouds of smoke and some streaks of fire in indignation. With another woman, Otabek would have feared for her life, but Mila can very well defend herself and seems to have noticed that Yuri likes her more than he lets on. For a while they play some sort of mismatched catch on the meadow in front of Mila’s hut and Otabek gets the vague feeling that maybe Yuri tries to draw out the last moments until goodbye. The realization tugs painfully on his heart. 

But all good things eventually come to an end and so this ends, too. They all feel it, the moment of departure, as if a secret signal has been given. Mila and Yuri stop playing and Otabek comes closer, gently resting a hand on Yuri’s snout. Magnificent, he thinks and smiles; no matter how much a person‘s heart is breaking, some things are bound to stay with them forever and this, the sight of Yuri’s golden scales glinting in the sun, this is one of them. For a moment, he shudders in terror at the beautiful, and he delights in it. 

“Goodbye,“ he says very quietly and Yuri looks at him, sighing ever so softly. There are no other words needed; in this very moment, Otabek feels as if their very souls are laid bare and naked before each other, every other communication but that single look completely unnecessary. It is in this that Otabek fully realizes that he is in love and that, no matter what happens in his life, he will probably never feel for anyone as he feels for Yuri. It is a strange realization and should have been a sad one, but somehow he only feels humble at the chance to have loved so unconditinally in his life. It is not something everyone achieves and the pain he feels at parting is just the price he has to pay.

But life seems to have other plans with them and so, when Otabek steps back again and Yuri opens his wings, Mila says very casually, “Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you. That wing’s only a prototype for now – you’ll need someone to open and close it for you, otherwise you probably won’t be able to fly. But don’t worry, I’ve got a few saddles I can alter and I’m sure Otabek will be glad to help you out!“

For a moment, Otabek is too stunned to move. As hope starts to bloom in his chest again, filling him with warmth that rushes straight into his face, Yuri makes a very, very half-hearted attempt at cleaving Mila in half. Yet when they look at each other again, Otabek can see that he is happy, as strangely happy as Otabek himself. He allows Mila to take his measurements and jumps behind her hut again. 

When he emerges, he is human again, scantily clad in only the underwear Otabek has given him, and he is warm, so very warm when he throws himself into his arms with fluttering wings and an exctatically swishing tail that curls around Otabek’s healthy leg. A few strands of blond hair tickle Otabek’s nose and he breathes in deeply, pressing Yuri tighter against himself, buzzing with that strange, helpless, bubbling joy that threatens to spill out of every pore of his skin.

“I’m with you,“ he whispers, over and over again, and Yuri whispers, “Yes“, over and over again, and they kiss, over and over again, and their embrace seems to never end. Otabek knows that he will travel with him to the end of the world to find his parents again, and he knows that he will gladly leave everything to follow him. Everything seems possible now, the world open and welcoming, life bright and unending. 

All good things eventually come to an end, but apparently theirs has not been written yet.


End file.
